


Semper Fidelis, He Engraved On A Ring

by KuriNCIS (KuriKoer)



Series: Wake Up Call [8]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Bisexuality, Cars, F/M, Het, M/M, Marines, Orientation, Slash, young Gibbs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 09:12:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriKoer/pseuds/KuriNCIS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young Gibbs has a girlfriend back home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Semper Fidelis, He Engraved On A Ring

"I got a girlfriend waiting for me at home."

It wasn't exactly true. She wasn't his girlfriend, yet; he hadn't asked her. Didn't think it was fair, her just starting out on a new life and him in the Corps. But she gave him her number at the end of that train ride, and he called twice already and she sounded happy to hear from him. Gibbs knew - and in the Corps, when anyone bothered to use any name at all when calling him, it was only Gibbs - that she was the one. Probably.

So he fought temptation. Wasn't that hard, after all; years in Stillwater taught him nothing if not the art of not looking directly at another boy. Showers and he stared at his own feet, drill and he stared straight ahead, sleep and he stared at the ceiling and thought of nothing at all.

_"This is my weapon, this is my gun..."_

In many ways it was easier. Hard work taught him resilience, camaraderie, taught him he could trust these guys with his life. They weren't interested in what dirty little thoughts he didn't share with them. A hundred naked guys, but Gibbs kept Shannon in his mind, and that helped his focus.

Then he got a week’s leave and spent it with her instead of going back to Stillwater and to his dad's store and to the dry heat of a too-long summer. After that, she was definitely the girlfriend back home.

And he didn't think to propose. He didn't think about kids. He let her think up all his future and just concentrated on being a Marine. A Marine and a boyfriend. A Marine and a fiancé. A Marine and a husband and a father. Eventually. But long before all of that, a Marine.

Alone with two other guys in a ditch, waiting for a light blue evening to turn to night so they could crawl back to base and not get seen by the other team, he pretended to nap. They took shifts, but he was too wired to really sleep. Sprawled under a net and some branches, he closed his eyes and listened to them panting, trying to be quiet, trying to stifle a litany of swear words, and the all-familiar, all-pervasive wet sound of hands on flesh. The tents were full of these noises every night, but those were each to his own, under a scratchy blanket, jokes tossed between the bunks, lewd remarks that turned his smalltown shy boyishness to the tough-skinned, hard-nosed Marine he was. This, in the ditch, dusk falling quickly, painting the branches black and purple, this was different. They thought they were alone. They had each other and Gibbs ached for that closeness; not even for the hand on his cock, but just someone to look into his eyes when it happened. He kept his breathing even. One of them stepped over him, getting a few tissues. Gibbs let them clean up before he feigned waking, stretching.

"Time to go already?"

"Half an hour more," one said shortly. The other, less callous, more like Gibbs used to be until not long ago, looked away. Couldn't look him in the eye. Even the dimming light couldn't hide the color in his cheeks.

First time he slept with her; didn't know if it was her first time. Never asked. Did his best to last but it was too long without for him and he was still young, and although it wasn't his first, he was far from experienced. She petted his sweaty back and smiled at him with a kind of fondness that made his heart melt. They tried again after a couple of hours. He'd like to believe he did better.

Some people's girlfriends sent them naughty pictures. Gibbs wondered if those girls knew their pictures were enjoyed not only in privacy. He never even put the picture he had of Shannon - a smiling face, nothing racy - in his locker. Kept it safely away, tucked in with his things where no one could see her unless they knew where to look.

"What's the matter with you, you a faggot?"

Gibbs looked at him evenly. "Got a girlfriend. She's just not a slut like yours."

That was low. The smiling woman in the red bikini probably didn't know her picture was used and abused by that pig and his friends. But Gibbs had to stand up for himself. He wasn't proud of it, but it was better than the alternative.

"How come we never see that girl of yours?"

They did when she came to pick him up from the station. Near thirty of them all spilled from the bus at the same time, and he shielded his eyes from the sun and saw her running to him, her hair streaming behind her, sunglasses covering half her face. She laughed and cried and she flew into his arms and he let his bag drop and just held her.

"New car?"

They walked towards the red convertible together, arms still around each other. "Yeah, bought it last month. I wanted it to be a surprise."

"It's pretty," he offered. Looked at it critically. His fingers, still bearing traces of gun oil under the cuticles, itched to get under the hood and tune the engine, tighten and switch and make it better.

Shannon laughed again and kissed his cheek even though it was covered with stubble and dust and two-day old sweat. "You can play with it later," she offered.

He tore his eyes from the car. "I got more important things to play with," he mumbled. She laughed and swatted him on the shoulder and he was beyond happy. He was with Shannon, in an apartment she technically shared with two roommates who were kind enough to find someplace else to be for the week; he took a long shower and ate a short meal and then 'played' with his girlfriend until he was completely exhausted. And then he woke up and did it all again.

Three days later and he was working on the car, up to his elbows in grease, when a familiar truck parked by the side of the building and his dad clambered out.

"Leroy."

"Hey, dad." Mixed emotions; he was happy to see his dad, and he resented himself for that happiness, and he resented his dad for causing it. And he was happy to see his dad.

"Thought I'd come see you, if you're not gonna come to Stillwater."

Unsubtly hidden criticism, to Gibbs' young ears, sticking out from his crew cut. He reacted. "It's out of the way."

"If I can take the truck over, you can take your fancy car and meet me halfway," his father responded.

"Not my car," Gibbs said before he thought about it, and cursed himself.

"You working on it for a friend?"

His father stepped close, peering over his shoulder.

"Something like that," Gibbs deflected the question with a shrug of his shoulder, and glanced towards the second-floor window. A worried face surrounded by ginger hair disappeared quickly, leaving behind only a white curtain and two potted plants. The kitchen window. She was standing there, God knows how long. Gibbs knew she'd be galloping down the stairs, taking two at a time. She was protective sometimes like a lioness.

"It's a nice car," his dad offered.

"Yeah," Gibbs said, sneaking nervous glances at the doorway to the building. It was dark in there, cool shades that stood stark compared to the hot sun outside. He wouldn't be able to see her until the door slammed open and.... "Dad, I have a girlfriend."

There was a moment of silence. Gibbs thought dazedly, maybe she wasn't decent and stopped to put on pants.

"That's... great, Leroy," his father finally said. With some hesitation, he gave his son a smile and a pat on the shoulder.

"Her name's Shannon," Gibbs blurted, fast and nervous, and started wiping his hands on the filthy towel that was wedged under the hood. "She's, uh..."

The door slammed open. Shannon hopped across the sidewalk and was between him and Jackson within seconds.

"Hi," she said, defiant, staring down the stranger.

Jackson didn't miss a beat. "You must be Shannon," he said, giving her that kindly smile that annoyed Gibbs all his life, "I heard so much about you." He glanced sideways at his son.

"Shannon, that's my dad," Gibbs mumbled, feeling silly. He looked down. His dad's shoes were covered with Stillwater dust and coal smudges, but his pants were clean and pressed, like they were when he would go to the city, to the bank. Or to funerals.

They got on like a house on fire and Gibbs, feeling his face heat up, hoped for some firetruck to take him out of his misery. But Shannon teased him gently about being a grouch, and his dad said some nice things about the pie and about her paintings on the walls, so he sat in a corner, struck dumb, and let them talk about wanting what's best for him and about missing him so terribly.

His dad left for home in the evening. Gibbs lay in bed that night, one arm around Shannon, who curled around him in her sleep, and stared at the ceiling. It was two days before he had to go back to his unit.

"Easy not to stray when all you got around you is us smelly guys," the sergeant laughed, "but what you all gonna do now?"

Stationed near a new base and half the Marines catcalled and whistled and threw papers and wrappers at the fence before they were all told just what would happen to the next guy who tried it. Dozens of young women in ill-fitting uniforms running up and down the sandy hill, carrying their weapons over their heads. Gibbs glanced and then glanced away, like he always did.

Wasn't that different. All the women around, all the men. He stuck to being a Marine and carried Shannon like a shield of light, protecting him from all the other options, all the other trim, fit bodies around him. All the other things.

Another time, another camp, civilians in short skirts or short pants or sometimes what looked exactly like underwear, standing not too close to the gate and not too far. Offering, every time he went for a run near the fence, every time he went outside to wait at the bus station. A friend of his offered to pay, more than once.

"Come on, Gibbs. How long has it been?"

The tall, handsome young man sniggered and nudged his side. Gibbs looked sideways at the sunbleached, scruffy hair and the tanned, strong arms.

"No, thanks. Got a girl back home," he said. And it was true.


End file.
